Sybil by Benjamin Disraeli (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

“His name is Gerard,” said Mr. Trafford.

“I believe a common name in these parts,” said Lord de Mowbray looking a little confused.

“Not very,” said Mr. Trafford; “ ’tis an old name and the stock has spread; but all Gerards claim a common lineage I believe, and my inspector has gentle blood, they say, in his veins.”

“He looks as if he had,” said Lady Maud.

“All persons with good names affect good blood,” said Lord de Mowbray; and then turning to Mrs. Trafford he overwhelmed her with elaborate courtesies of phrase; praised everything again; first generally and then in detail; the factory, which he seemed to prefer to his castle⁠—the house, which he seemed to prefer even to the factory⁠—the gardens, from which he anticipated even greater gratification than from the house. And this led to an expression of a hope that he would visit them. And so in due time the luncheon was achieved. Mrs. Trafford looked at her guests, there was a rustling and a stir, and everybody was to go and see the gardens that Lord de Mowbray had so much praised.

“I am all for looking after the beautiful nun,” said Mr. Mountchesney to Lord Milford.

“I think I shall ask the respectable manufacturer to introduce me to her,” replied his lordship.

In the meantime Egremont had joined Gerard at the factory.

“You should have come sooner,” said Gerard, “and then you might have gone round with the fine folks. We have had a grand party here from the castle.”

“So I perceived,” said Egremont, “and withdrew.”

“Ah! they were not in your way, eh?” he said in a mocking smile. “Well, they were very condescending⁠—at least for such great people. An earl! Earl de Mowbray⁠—I suppose he came over with William the Conqueror. Mr. Trafford makes a show of the place, and it amuses their visitors I dare say, like anything else that’s strange. There were some young gentlemen with them, who did not seem to know much about anything. I thought I had a right to be amused too; and I must say I liked very much to see one of them looking at the machinery through his eyeglass. There was one very venturesome chap: I thought he was going to catch hold of the flywheel, but I gave him a spin which I believed saved his life, though he did rather stare. He was a lord.”

“They are great heiresses, his daughters, they say at Mowbray,” said Egremont.

“I dare say,” said Gerard. “A year ago this earl had a son⁠—an only son, and then his daughters were not great heiresses. But the son died and now it’s their turn. And perhaps some day it will be somebody else’s turn. If you want to understand the ups and downs of life, there’s nothing like the parchments of an estate. Now master, now man! He who served in the hall now lords in it: and very often the baseborn change their liveries for coronets, while gentle blood has nothing left but⁠—dreams; eh, master Franklin?”

“It seems you know the history of this Lord de Mowbray?”

“Why, a man learns a good many things in his time; and living in these parts, there are few secrets of the notables. He has had the title to his broad acres questioned before this time, my friend.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes: I could not help thinking of that today,” said Gerard, “when he questioned me with his mincing voice and pulled the wool with his cursed white hands and showed it to his dame, who touched it with her little finger; and his daughters who tossed their heads like peahens⁠—Lady Joan and Lady Maud. Lady Joan and Lady Maud!” repeated Gerard in a voice of bitter sarcasm. “I did not care for the rest; but I could not stand that Lady Joan and that Lady Maud. I wonder if my Sybil saw them.”

In the meantime, Sybil had been sent for by Mrs. Trafford. She had inferred from the message that the guests had departed, and her animated cheek showed the eagerness with which she had responded to the call. Bounding along with a gladness of the heart which lent additional lustre to her transcendent brightness, she suddenly found herself surrounded in the garden by Lady Maud and her friends. The daughter of Lord de Mowbray, who could conceive nothing but humility as the cause of her alarmed look, attempted to reassure her by condescending volubility, turning often to her friends and praising in admiring interrogatories Sybil’s beauty.

“And we took advantage of your absence,” said Lady Maud in a tone of amiable artlessness, “to find out all about you. And what a pity we did not know you when you were at the convent, because then you might have been constantly at the castle; indeed I should have insisted on it. But still I hear we are neighbours; you must promise to pay me a visit, you must indeed. Is not she beautiful?” she added in a lower but still distinct voice to her friend. “Do you know I think there is so much beauty among the lower order.”

Mr. Mountchesney and Lord Milford poured forth several insipid compliments, accompanied with some speaking looks which they flattered themselves could not be misconstrued. Sybil said not a word, but answered each flood of phrases with a cold reverence.

Undeterred by her somewhat haughty demeanour, which Lady Maud only attributed to the novelty of her situation, her ignorance of the world, and her embarrassment under this overpowering condescension, the good-tempered and fussy daughter of Lord de Mowbray proceeded to reassure Sybil, and to enforce on her that this perhaps unprecedented descent from superiority was not a mere transient courtliness of the moment, and that she really might rely on her patronage and favourable feeling.

“You really must come and see me,” said Lady Maud, “I shall never be happy till you have made me a visit. Where do you live? I will come and fetch you myself in the carriage. Now let us fix a day at once. Let